Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1887-04-08
CHAPTER VIII.
A CHANGE.


Shirley became impatient to begin her
work.
Col Carstone seemed to get WE'LL and
for time appeared quite the same. But
after a month or two, it became evident he
was not the same. He had been an unusually
calm, self controlled man before the accident
that bcfell him on the State Line turnpike
Especially, though by nature quickly angry,
he had had his temper singuarly well in
hand. Shirley noticed that he had become
unaccountably irritable. The slightest cause,
trine threw him into an uncomfortable rage
The first time she observed this they We're
riding together in the little light carriage
Her father was driving. y boy started up
before them in the road, then SUNK to one
side. He was the forlorncst tattcrdcmalon
of a child mass of rags and dirt He was
a picture to excite profound pity, being
stunted and starved looking, with STOPPING
shoulders and narrow, hollow Ghost He had
large blue eyes, that looked CLASSY above
bis thin cheeks. But they We're shifting
furtve eyes, as if wont to glance from
side to side, looking for blow from behind,
or for something to lay hands on and make
off with. lie was a wee, hungry faced Great
ure.
"What pitiful looking child said Shir-
ley.
"That? That's the little devil that lost me
the sorrel colt. Get out Of the way, there,
you"
Col Carstone gave the child IA cut across
the poor little shoulders with his whip. The
child csied with pain.
"Why, father" said Shirley How could
you do that"
Let him keep out of my sight, then"
In all his life he had never spoken so be-
fore. She said nothing; not word till they
reached home Neither did the colonel.
But Shirley straightway gathered up some of
Percys clothes, a basket of the food that is
dear to the appetite of boy, and went back
to the road, and found the half starved Great
ure, and fed and comforted him. Twas
poor little Rip, the baby tramp. She inter
coded with the local authorities for him. He
did not belong to Lnwood parts, or indeed
anywhere else.
ave can do nothing for him. He's none
of ours they said.
"But you can't turn him out to starve, can
youE she asked.
They 'reckoned" they couldn't do that,
hardly So after some delay, and much
hemming and having, Rip, Nobody's child,
was sent to the county poorhouse There he
had food and shelter, such as they We're. There
we leave him, for the present. But he will
come in again. Though he did not belong to
Linwood, he belongs to this story
The brief fit of anger which surprised
Shirley so that day in her father was only
the first of many like it. He who was wont
to be the sweetest, merriest of men to his
family became terror to them at times.
What had come over their father! He re-
allied the change himself, at times, and
begged the forgiveness and forbearance of
his wife and daughter in a humble way that
brought tears to their eyes.
He was not well in other respects either.
He dragged his limbs with sense of pain and
heaviness, though he went about the mill and
farm still, and followed the old ways. One
day be sat in the porch with the children and
their mother, looking out at the peaceful
valley below. A sudden gust of wind blew
speck of something into his eye. The speck
proved to be a poisonous gnat. 1t blinded
him. The eye became presently SO swollen
and painful that it was necessary to shut out
the light Shirley bound IA bandage about
the wounded eye.
"Stop, Shirley" said he don't cover up
both eyesW
81 didn't papa; l only bound up the right
eye.n
He passed his hand across the left eye to
make sure, He opened and closed the lid
several times,
Then he sat in utter silence a moment
"God help me-" he said at length, II am
going blind in my left eye!"
1t was too true The sight of the eye was
all gone but the faintest glimmering of gray
like twilight. He was unable to distinguish
one object from another with that eye. Other
signs of failing powers followed. His memory
had been clear and powerful Now he lost
recollection of important matters Images of
people and events became confused in his
brain. He forgot sometimes the names of his
children, and called one by the name of an
other. A pain in his head troubled him.
With a sinking heart the faithful daughter